“I was thinking of Perry Rountree, that used to be my sidekicker before he committed matrimony.  In them days me and Perry hated indisturbances of any kind.  We roamed around considerable, stirring up the echoes and making ’em attend to business.  Why, when me and Perry wanted to have some fun in a town it was a picnic for the census takers.  They just counted the marshal’s posse that it took to subdue us, and there was your population.  But then there came along this Mariana Goodnight girl and looked at Perry sideways, and he was all bridle-wise and saddle-broke before you could skin a yearling.

“I wasn’t even asked to the wedding.  I reckon the bride had my pedigree and the front elevation of my habits all mapped out, and she decided that Perry would trot better in double harness without any unconverted mustang like Buck Caperton whickering around on the matrimonial range.  So it was six months before I saw Perry again.

“One day I was passing on the edge of town, and I see something like a man in a little yard by a little house with a sprinkling-pot squirting water on a rose-bush.  Seemed to me, I’d seen something like it before, and I stopped at the gate, trying to figure out its brands.  ’Twas not Perry Rountree, but ’twas the kind of a curdled jellyfish matrimony had made out of him.

“Homicide was what that Mariana had perpetrated.  He was looking well enough, but he had on a white collar and shoes, and you could tell in a minute that he’d speak polite and pay taxes and stick his little finger out while drinking, just like a sheep man or a citizen.  Great skyrockets! but I hated to see Perry all corrupted and Willie-ized like that.

“He came out to the gate, and shook hands; and I says, with scorn, and speaking like a paroquet with the pip:  ’Beg pardon—­Mr. Rountree, I believe.  Seems to me I sagatiated in your associations once, if I am not mistaken.’

“‘Oh, go to the devil, Buck,’ says Perry, polite, as I was afraid he’d be.

“‘Well, then,’ says I, ’you poor, contaminated adjunct of a sprinkling-pot and degraded household pet, what did you go and do it for?  Look at you, all decent and unriotous, and only fit to sit on juries and mend the wood-house door.  You was a man once.  I have hostility for all such acts.  Why don’t you go in the house and count the tidies or set the clock, and not stand out here in the atmosphere?  A jack-rabbit might come along and bite you.’

“‘Now, Buck,’ says Perry, speaking mild, and some sorrowful, ’you don’t understand.  A married man has got to be different.  He feels different from a tough old cloudburst like you.  It’s sinful to waste time pulling up towns just to look at their roots, and playing faro and looking upon red liquor, and such restless policies as them.’

“‘There was a time,’ I says, and I expect I sighed when I mentioned it, ’when a certain domesticated little Mary’s lamb I could name was some instructed himself in the line of pernicious sprightliness.  I never expected, Perry, to see you reduced down from a full-grown pestilence to such a frivolous fraction of a man.  Why,’ says I, ’you’ve got a necktie on; and you speak a senseless kind of indoor drivel that reminds me of a storekeeper or a lady.  You look to me like you might tote an umbrella and wear suspenders, and go home of nights.’